


And swapped were the bodies

by sashushilda



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale is terrible at slang, Aziraphale saying "dude" as Crowley should be a separate fandom, Bad Jokes, Body Swap, Comment if you find these references, Crowley has a bad memory, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Crowley's Hips, Crowley's Throne, Freaky Friday and The Office to be precise, Gen, God gives a damn, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Strange descriptions of physical moves, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Tired Crowley (Good Omens), What wasn't shown, pop-culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashushilda/pseuds/sashushilda
Summary: "Aziraphale was pacing the living room in Crowley's flat at three in the morning right after the end of the world had been cancelled..."The husbands are trying to figure out how to swap bodies and add verisimilitude when it comes to acting like each other. And they're BAD at it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley's Body, Crowley/Aziraphale's Body
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	And swapped were the bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, another story about the night right after Armageddidn't and it's not even a pwp. I mean does ao3 even allow this? haha sorry. Well, at least this joke of mine gives you an insight of what to expect.  
> (I should just zip it, shouldn't I?)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> If you can.
> 
> Sorry.

Aziraphale was pacing the living room in Crowley's flat at three in the morning right after the end of the world had been cancelled. The owner of the flat was sprawled in his throne and watched the angel lazily. It had just dawned on them that Agnes Nutter's "choofe your faces wisely" was not a metaphor – they needed to crawl into someone else's skin in order to stay safe. And since Crowley couldn't perform what Arya Stark did in Game of Thrones (actually, he could try, but didn't want to), there was no other option than to stick to each other. Into each other.

"We swap bodies and then what?" Aziraphale was anxious and couldn't stand still for a split second.

Crowley's head was so loose on the neck that his right ear was touching his right shoulder. He. Was. Tired. Didn't they deserve a quick breather after everything they'd done?

"Then we wait," he mumbled.

Aziraphale wasn't quite satisfied with the answer. "What do you mean wait? For what?"

"Until they come for us, angel, isn't it obvious? Please don't make me talk right now."

"And when are they going to come? What if they come right now?" Aziraphale stopped abruptly and his eyes were full of horror. "What if they come in 5 years! I don't want to be stuck in your body for so long!"

"S'pose they'd want to play their little revenge game a bit earlier. And, excuse me,” Crowley got up from his seat, “care to explain what is so wrong with..." he pointed at himself with an open palm, "... this?"

"Nothing, dear, it's perfect." Aziraphale blushed. "But I've grown used to my corporation and honestly I was reunited with it just this evening." He got teary-eyed. "I thought I'd never see it again."

Crowley approached him and put his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders. "Alright, I get it. But it's serious business and not the time to question some crazy witch's advice. She says, we do. Ok? Buck up, angel."  
He pat his shoulders ruthlessly, then left to lean on the table with his (to quote one angel "perfect") bottom and crossed his arms. "Do you know how to swap bodies?"

"I thought you knew, you're a demon, after all. Possession, ooh!" Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air. "Occult, spooky."

Crowley took his glasses off to rub his eyes. "That's for people, demons posses people. Other demons. Never tried it myself."

"Really?"

"What's so surprising?"

"Don't know." Aziraphale shrugged. "Just thought it'd be your thing."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "And what would I do with my body? Abandon it somewhere to catch another ride? Store in Hell's closet so that Hastur could try it on?"

"Alright!" Aziraphale raised his arms to stop the current of the demon's oh so witty comments. "How do other demons do it?"

"They just do. Like a virus, get inside the system and take the reins."

"Seems easy enough!" Aziraphale straightened his back, put his feet shoulder length apart, bent the knees slightly, spread his arms and closed his eyes. "Do it."

Crowley was not convinced with this and took his time to consider what to do. He approached the angel, walked around him as if preparing to take measures for a new suit. 

Aziraphale peeked through one eye. "Are you still here?"

"Close your eyes! I'm concentrating. OK." he stretched his neck and shoulders. "Three, two, one..." he left his body and saw it fall on the floor. Fuck. Should've lain down before that. He then looked at Aziraphale, who was standing still, safe for the head which was turning left and right to predict which way the foul fiend was coming from. Crowley rushed forward and felt an incredible force stop him as if dragging him back by the collar. He tried again and again with the same result. Finally, he gave up and returned to his body.

Crowley growled as he lay on the floor. Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked down at him. "I felt you trying to get in, but I guess my corporation has some natural celestial defense."

"Figured." The floor felt so comfortable now, if only he had a pillow to rest his head on. Crowley covered his face with his hands. "Gotta come up with something else, then."

They tried doing the same, but reversed, and Aziraphale couldn't get through demonic defense either. Then they had a go at holding hands in various positions – standing and kneeling opposite each other, lying shoulder to shoulder. After Aziraphale remembered how their bodies were not actually theirs and all the paperwork it required to obtain one, he miracled two pens and two pieces of paper to write on. So they tried to "issue a deed of gift", which of course didn't work since there was no attorney present. Crowley miracled a falling star to wish on (he saw it in a Hollywood film). No effect. At last, they decided to stand in the opposite corners of the room and run at each other at full speed. It only left Crowley collapsing on the floor once again and bumping his head. Why was the angel so strong all of a sudden?

"Well," Crowley turned around and placed his chin on his hands, "at least the world is saved. Wanna drink ourselves to death?"

Aziraphale sat down next to him and his face lit up. "Wait, there's something else we could try!"

"What?" Crowley didn't lift his head, but turned it to look at Aziraphale.

The angel was sitting cross-legged with one hand on the knee, he used the other one to rub his chin. "We could ask for help."

"Yeah, 'm sure Gabriel or Beelzebub would be happy to lend a hand to friends in need."

"Stop mocking me." Aziraphale pursed his lips and had to overcome his irritation to continue talking. "If we assume that this is all part of the ineffable plan, then..."

"What? Her?" Crowley pulled one finger away from the floor to point upwards.

"Exactly!" Aziraphale was rubbing his hands excitedly, delighted with how smart he was.

"You don't suppose we could just say "Oh lord, swap these bodies…” Crowley’s vision blurred and he was suddenly looking at himself, hearing Aziraphale's voice finish the sentence, "...and expect a miracle to happen?"

They both jumped to their feet and looked at each other in disbelief.

"I can't believe it! She actually cares about us!” Aziraphale was over the moon. “Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Almighty God, you really do work in mysterious ways!" Crowley was looking at his own body clapping hands excitedly and hopping. But it wasn't him. It was Aziraphale.

Crowley rushed to the mirror and gauged the damage. What he saw there was a terrified angel. He drew Aziraphale's face closer and started turning it slowly to make sure it was him, Crowley, who was in control of the body. From a corner of the eye he noticed his own, his real reflection and decided to check on how the angel was coping.

The angel had stopped squeaking like a little girl and was now in some kind of stupor. His feet were glued to the floor and he was touching his new red hair in a monotonous motion, as if hypnotized. Crowley came to him and moved his hand away from the hair. “Now stop messing it, will you.”

Aziraphale looked at him with unseeing eyes. “It worked, Crowley. It actually worked.”

“Mm-hmm. Now how does this body feel?” he said smugly.

“The trousers are too tight. I can’t move.” Aziraphale tried to lift the legs, then squatted in an ungraceful manner.

“It seems to me you can,” Crowley said gloomily. “But you do realize that it’ll take more than this?” he waved fingers between them. “If you keep acting like Aziraphale, no one will buy it.”

“Aahh, come ooon, ‘tis easy-peasy, bro!” Aziraphale waved him off.

“What was that?” Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. First squatting, now… this?

“That’s how you talk! Do you like it?” Aziraphale was so happy at his impression he even topped it off with gun fingers and a click of the tongue.

“This is not getting better,” Crowley growled for a hundredth time this night, only now he sounded like a purring kitten.

Aziraphale gave up his act and raised his chin defiantly. “Well, if you think I’m so bad, then show me how to do it, Sir Laurence Olivier.”  
He sat in the throne and stared expectedly.

“Watch and learn.” 

Crowley collected his loose hips, stood straight, cupped his hands and spoke. “Ah, Gabriel, so very nice to see you.” He produced the most charming smile. “Ooh, yes, the miracle business is rather tickety-boo! I healed a hungover homeless man this morning, so can I please return to my duties as a bookseller?”

Aziraphale crossed his legs and arms and looked away. “Well, yes. OK. It was humiliating, but rather convincing.”

“Come on, angel, don’t be a sore loser.” Crowley came to him and leaned on the back of the throne. “I just have a natural talent.”  
He gently pushed Aziraphale to stand up. “Come on, you just need a bit of practice. And less of a spoof.”

Aziraphale wanted to mention that Crowley had done exactly that just seconds ago, but thought better of it. He stood up and let Crowley take the throne.

“Try walking first,” Crowley advised, resting his elbows on his knees. "No, please, you're not a pendulum, for Heaven's sake! I don't walk like this!"

"How do I do it then?" Aziraphale couldn't take more criticism from the demon. After all, Crowley wasn't the only tired person in the room. "Show me what to do exactly."

Crowley stood next to him and gripped his shoulders. "You need to relax, here, lose the stiffness." He moved on to the waist and the hips. "Now just move it slightly to the left. Not the whole body, angel. Just the lower part. I said slightly."  
He examined the result from head to toe. "Ok, now that looks more or less passable."

"Even if I am able to look and act like you, the second I open my mouth, they'll understand." Aziraphale shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

So Crowley taught him how to talk, going into the depth of modern slang and how to distinguish bad taste from doing it with style. They had a small argument about the word "dude" which Aziraphale claimed to have heard him say once, but Crowley refused to acknowledge it and begged the angel not to use it. He was relieved when Aziraphale finally surrendered, but didn't hear him whisper something like "unless there's an appropriate moment". All in all, they wasted an hour to get everything right.

"I guess we're good now, what a night!" concluded Aziraphale and wanted to enquire what alcoholic beverages Crowley had.

"Erm, there's one more thing." Crowley had to stop him midway to the kitchen. "I don't remember what some of the angels look like."

"What? Why?" Aziraphale was stupefied. "You know them all in person, used to know, at least."

"Yes, but I’m not into reminiscing our happy times up there and our Earthly gatherings have been very limited as you can imagine." Crowley seemed a bit embarrassed which very suited his new body.

"You must remember at least some of them!" Aziraphale threw his hands up.

"Unfortunately I do. Gabriel, for a start. I remember the face so that I can recognize it and punch the tall asshole one day."

"That's not very nice." Aziraphale started looking around cautiously just in case.

"Will you drop it already? Forget about being in Heaven's good books. You need to help me remember." Crowley went back to the mirror and started practicing some facial expressions and gestures.

"You have to focus then, I can't do it for you while you make fun of me in front of the mirror." Aziraphale still couldn't let go of the fact that Crowley was so good at impersonating him and the demon’s little acting training seemed superfluous. As if he was trying to avoid the embarrassment of being bad at something.

Crowley sighed. "Fine, let's get it over with. What do you suggest?"

Aziraphale paused to think." We could try to first establish how many of the upper level angels you can remember and then work with that."

But how would they do it? Naming everyone and interviewing Crowley would take a lot of time, so it was off the table. Aziraphale nearly asked him to do some sketches, but remembered how abhorrent Crowley was when it came to anything reminding drawing. There was one option though.

"Can you miracle their photos from your memory? At least of the ones you know for sure."

"Not bad." Crowley nodded in appreciation and snapped his fingers. Several photos appeared on the desk. "Shall we?" He gestured to them, inviting Aziraphale to check. 

The demon got Gabriel and Michael perfectly, Uriel was a bit off, Sandalphon, as funny as it was, looked horribly wrong. He was wider, shorter, with huge copper braces and absolutely bald except for a lock of hair right in the middle of his scalp.

"Well," Aziraphale was tempted to mock Crowley a bit as a pay off, but didn't want to hurt his ego, so went easy, "these two are perfect. Uriel has short hair now and we'll have to work on Sandalphon."

"That's how I remember him," Crowley said innocently. "Although maybe the braces are a bit much."  
He snapped his fingers again and they disappeared.

Aziraphale miracled the photo to look right. He also added a dozen more angels to the list.

Crowley saw them and threw his arms up. "Oh no, there's no way I can remember all of them. I'm so bad with names!"

"There's something I know called mnemonic devices." Aziraphale raised his finger. "You simply make an association that helps you remember. Like this one here. It's Peter. Peter is handsome and he’s got perfect manners. It's a pity Peter's pretty. It's really easy, now you try it."

Crowley hated the ridiculousness of the situation and spat out some horribly offensive things about angels in the photos. For the reasons of politeness we cannot include them in the story. Aziraphale flinched at every bad word and wanted to cover his ears. Still when he checked how well Crowley remembered everyone, all the answers were spot on.

"I guess this technique of yours works. Nice one," Crowley concluded triumphantly.

"Yes, although your, err, association chain could be a tad bit nicer."

"The funnier it is, the easier for me. I'll just forget if it's boring like your pretty Peter," he emphasized the last words mockingly.

"Fine, I get it, you hate them all." Aziraphale thought one lecture for the road wouldn't hurt. "Just please don't do anything reckless there like erupting with unpleasantries. You know I would never do it, right?"

"Fine." Crowley raised his arms in surrender. "I'll be a good angel. I screwed up once, won't happen again."

They were ready to face the wrath of their bosses now. Aziraphale learnt to move like a snake (not a slinky), Crowley overcame his unwillingness to recognize the angels who he had been trying so hard to forget. The dawn was breaking and they decided it would be better to divide for some time (for that's what people always do when they are being hunted, right?). Crowley went to check on the state of the bookshop while Aziraphale stayed at the flat.

"See you in St. James's in two hours," Crowley said as they shook hands with a doorstep between them.

"Fare thee well, you foul fiend." 

Aziraphale smiled and closed the door.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've come this far, let me shower you with my gratitude and respect. Every reader is very important to me and I appreciate any kind of feedback (no pressure here, though).  
> Posting doesn't come easily to me, so thank you thank you thank you for taking the time to read this story.
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
